


promotion of champions

by lightyaers



Series: the twelve days of chessmas [2]
Category: The Queen's Gambit (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27839077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyaers/pseuds/lightyaers
Summary: Benny decides to host a Christmas costume party, with the theme being Chess, obviously.Beth is determined to win best-dressed.
Relationships: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts
Series: the twelve days of chessmas [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032102
Comments: 24
Kudos: 218





	promotion of champions

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to The 12 Days of Chessmas! 
> 
> This is part 2, with multiple other fluffy and quirky one shots planned for Beth and Benny. This one follows Beth and Benny in New York City one weekend, as they both try and find the perfect costume for Benny's party. It's fluffy and funny, just the way I like it. 
> 
> Please comment below headcanons you'd like me to write maybe!
> 
> Enjoy x

The day before Benny Watts’ Christmas Party, an idea struck Beth. It was a costume party, which only made her skin crawl. She was reminded of the Apple Pie’s from high school, with their chirpy nature and horrible taste in music, and told herself that Benny's party wouldn’t be like _that._

Obviously, the theme was chess. With Benny, it always was. Beth tried not to burst into laughter at the thought of a room full of people, dressed up like Morphy, or Alekhine, or— _god forbid—_ her. It was down to the wire when Beth rejected her earlier costume of a Queen piece, for something a bit more—

_Dangerous._

While everyone was in New York City for Nationals, 1969, Benny had decided to host this impromptu party. It was to be in his stuffy basement, with a bowl full of punch and some half-arsed Christmas decorations on the walls, probably, but Beth couldn’t deny that she’d missed his company—

_Or_ the opportunity to embarrass him.

Trudging through snow in the city in December wasn’t on Beth’s favourite things to do list, but she still pushed on. She’d started at Macy’s, trying not to buy all of the fabulous dresses that she saw, as she searched for the final piece of her new costume. It was a pivotal accessory, one that was utterly necessary if she wanted the whole outfit to work together.

She made her way through isles and isles of clothes, shoes, wigs, but the last place she’d ever expected to see _Benny Watts_ was the hair accessories section in a Macy’s.

Beth ducked behind a rack of clothes faster than she’d take a pawn, over-seeing Benny as he picked up a hairband with a frown on his face. She almost laughed at how out of place he looked, how his expression revealed how lost and uncomfortable he really was. In the sea of blonde curls and squeaking hangers, Benny’s hat appeared above them all, like a needle in a haystack.

Beth turned away from the champion, trying not to chuckle to herself and reveal her position. She would have to bring this up tomorrow, just for a laugh at his expense.

“Harmon?” Beth jumped up immediately, squeaking as her eyes landed upon his. Benny donned an amused smile, his stance strong. He’d just totally caught her out. “Are you spying on me?”

Beth composed herself quickly, raising her chin to compensate for the way Benny towered over her. “I was merely observing you, as you looked for the right _hairband.”_ Benny’s face was the first to drop, as embarrassment flooded his cheeks. He tried to play it off.

“An accessory can make or break an outfit, you know?” He added, and Beth found herself looking towards his knife, glued to his hip like always.

“Just like your _knife_?” Beth huffed in response. Benny tapped the blade twice, as if it were his valuable companion.

“Exactly.” He said sternly. There was a pause, as a heavy silence descended on them. Beth never really _bumped_ into Benny, out and about. She thought for a moment and realised that both of them had never been anywhere together unless it was chess related. A Macy’s in New York City seemed like the last place they’d both meet each other. “Shopping for tomorrow?” Benny finally said, breaking the silence.

“Something like that,” Beth replied, and Benny perked an eyebrow.

“Costume related?” He added, and the competitiveness that came over Beth was something she hadn’t been expecting from a simple _costume contest._

“That’s none of your business, Watts,” She said, shuffling to run her fingers through a rack of winter coats. She saw the small, smug smile that curled on his lips. He took a step back, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“ _Okay,_ okay,” Benny chuckled out. “No costume talk,” He paused, as Beth kept her stare glued to the coats, trying not to look him in the eye. “What’re you doing right now?”

Beth tensed ever so slightly, taken aback by his question. “Just—browsing,” She stuttered.

“Coffee?” Benny asked, and Beth willed herself to look at his face. Besides those five weeks before Paris the previous year, Beth hardly spent time alone with Benny. There was always an odd feeling that came over her, somewhere between nerves and comfort. It was impossible not to remember that night—after she’d finally beat him at speed chess. It was a good thing she had a decent poker face.

“Sure.” She said, putting on her best, unbothered smile, before she followed Benny out of the store and into the cold.

The way Benny walked through the city made Beth feel like a novice. His confident strides, his absence of care about whether people bombarded into him as they moved forward, all the while as he chatted back at Beth. She wasn’t a city girl; Lexington was as much as she could handle in the long run, with the exception of the tension that came from a chess tournament hall.

Benny grabbed two coffees from a little kiosk in Times Square, while Beth’s breath was taken away by the city—

The largest billboards she’d ever seen surrounded her, like the tallest four walls that she’d ever stepped foot in. A huge Christmas tree was erected in the centre of the square, dotted with baubles and lights of every colour imaginable, with an ice-rink set up next to it. People laughed as they skated together, some dropping like flies as they slipped on their skates. There was just so much _life,_ so much _light._ It was all-encompassing.

Benny handed Beth a latte, sipping at his own as his breaths coiled around his face like smoke. “It’s pretty special, isn’t it?” Benny said, seeing the way Beth’s eyes had lit up at what was in front of her.

“Sure is,” Beth replied.

“Come on, I wanna show you something.”

Benny led Beth to Central Park, navigating his way around the city like it was a chessboard. Each block was a tile, each building another piece for him to take. Snow stuck to the ground like the world’s coldest blanket, reflecting the sun light like a disco ball. It sparkled, as Beth’s feet crunched through another untouched area. It was impossible not to get a giddy feeling when snow had fallen—it transported Beth into the childlike wonder section of her brain, making her smile at every little thing she saw.

Benny smiled at Beth as they turned a corner, revealing a dozen or so chess tables and double the amount of people playing. She almost gasped, as she was transported back to Russia once more—

The cold of the air, the buzz of the mutterings, the scuff of a piece as it moved to checkmate. A warm feeling always hit her gut when she saw people playing the game; she respected the way they played, just for themselves, instead of for any recognition. It was humbling, as she and Benny slalomed their way in and out of the tables, over-seeing the games, the stares, the moves.

“It’s just like Russia,” Beth whispered, but Benny heard.

“I know. I played a few games with the locals there, after I lost to Borgov,” Benny explained. “They play aggressively, always have. Some of them could have made it as Grandmaster’s, if they’d ever competed.”

Beth and Benny clapped, as one man moved his opponent into a checkmate.

“I used to train here a lot,” Benny continued. “There’s no better way to learn than to see multiple different ways of play. Studying can only get you so far; you gotta play the game.”

“You’re talking to a _World Champion_ here, Watts,” Beth said smugly, curling her lip into a small smile. Benny reciprocated.

“Oh, _really?_ I had no idea,” Benny said sarcastically, letting out a huff as he strolled next to her.

“Miss Harmon?” A voice spoke up from one of the tables. An elderly gentleman stood, taking off his hat. “Beth Harmon?”

Beth turned, regarding him sweetly. “Yes,” She replied, feeling a warmth spread through her gut.

“And Benny Watts!” Another man spoke up, pointing at Benny’s hat. The mutterings and whispers began tenfold, as did the entourage of people surrounding both of them. Beth immediately felt like this could get out of hand—it was New York City, and despite them not having the same celebrity as actors or musicians, they _were_ known.

Benny grabbed Beth’s hand suddenly, squeezing his fingers round her palm.

“Ready to run?” Benny whispered, as the crowd continued to descend upon them, this time with more members of the public involved. Everyone loved a show.

Beth nodded at him slowly, counting her heartbeats, before Benny let out a “ _Now!_ ”. They legged it back through Central Park, slaloming through people, crowds, vendors and fans alike, not daring to look back to see if they were being followed. They made it to a clearing, empty of all others, before they finally slowed down.

Beth’s heart raced beneath her chest, but she couldn’t deny how invigorated she felt—she felt like she could have run a marathon or climbed Everest—she felt like she could have beaten Borgov all over again.

“Damn,” Benny began, breathing heavily. “I can’t believe you got _recognised_ before me,”

“Jealous?” Beth huffed out, laughing as her lungs screamed beneath her ribs.

“A little,” Benny said, before realising he was still holding Beth’s hand. He looked at her elegant fingers encased in his own, smiling as he caught his breath. “Though, I suppose it makes sense. You’re much more beautiful than I am,”

Beth glanced at her hand, as Benny’s fingers trickled over the top of her knuckles. Butterflies appeared in her stomach, as a wash of _something_ made its way through her body. It was a feeling she’d felt before, on that night in Benny’s basement—

She retracted her hand from his, sending him a smug smile. Benny always _flirted_ subtly, whether it was praising her playing, the reassuring touch of hand on her shoulder, or the intense stare that he was giving her right then and there.

Benny Watts was a flirt—and he was _good_ at it.

“I better get back,” Beth said, with no awkwardness. “I have a costume to finish prepping.”

“You may have beat me in Ohio last year, but you won’t beat me this time.” He placed his hands in his pockets boyishly, taking a few steps back.

“We’ll see about that.” Beth said finally, before they went their separate ways.

As the next evening loomed, Beth had prepared everything to a T, even so much as arriving slightly late, just for dramatic effect.

She knocked on the door to Benny’s basement, nerves and excitement fluttering in her stomach. She repositioned the hat on her head, ready for whatever met her. Hilton Wexler, dressed as a chess clock, was the one to open the door, smiling immediately as he looked Beth up and down.

“You’re not gonna believe this...” He began, as Beth stepped inside and followed him to the main room. “Our _host_ finally made it, everyone!” Hilton yelled, as they entered the living room.

Beth stood proudly, chin up, smiled donned, as a stunned silence descended over the room. She was dressed as _Benny—_ hat on her head, fake knife on her hip, grey denim jeans and a khaki shirt with necklaces, rings and bracelets just to tie everything together—

Benny was the first to let out a laugh, as he revealed himself in all his glory—

Beth’s face _dropped._

He wore a red wig with a green headband, flared trousers and a tucked in blouse, carrying around a black King piece as a prop of Borgov’s own King. They stood opposite each other—Watts and Harmon, as _Watts and Harmon._ It was too much of a coincidence that they came dressed as each other; it was almost spooky.

“You scrub up nice,” Benny said, taking in Beth’s attire.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” She let out, as soft laughter bubbled in her gut. Benny reached a hand to her hair, pushing a strand behind her ear slowly, gently.

“ _I like your hair_ ,” He said playfully, and Beth’s cheeks exploded with neon red. She slapped his hand away, grabbing her fake knife theatrically.

“Don’t make me use this,” She said, but Benny only laughed.

The evening went on, as the punch was poured and Beth indulged in her fourth glass of lemonade, she sat on the kitchen counter over-seeing everyone. The Knight, Rook and King costumes, the one person who’d actually dressed up as a _chessboard_ , the countless Borgov’s, Luchenko’s, Morphy’s and Alekhine’s—

It was chess in a way that Beth had never seen before. She’d always thought the game to be beautiful, but maybe she’d been missing something crucial—the people. The people were just as beautiful as the moves they played, as they let out belly laughs and sipped at whiskey, champagne, beer, dressed _ridiculously_ without a care.

Beth always thought chess was a two-player game, with an extra importance on herself as she played. It could be isolating, sometimes, as players locked themselves away to better their moves, their knowledge, all in the hopes that they’d be the next person to make an opponent resign—but this wasn’t a two-player game.

It was a collective, a community—one that welcomed her with open arms, unlike the orphanage where she was raised.

Benny strolled over then, depositing himself in front of Beth, in between her legs as she sat on the counter. He’d taken the wig off by then, but Beth couldn’t deny that the style suited him. He looked like a musician, or a painter.

“I think _I_ win,” He said smugly. Beth ran a chaste finger over the hairs of his moustache.

“Not with that unshaved,” She giggled out, as Benny placed a secret hand on her thigh. She let him, feeling the warmth from his palm.

“The Benny Watts look suits you,” He whispered, as something in his demeaner changed. “Though, it might look even better on my floor.”

Beth only smirked at him. “You’re drunk, Benny.”

“A little,” He admitted. “Not enough that I don’t know what I’m doing, or what I want.”

_What I want._ He wanted _her._

Beth couldn’t deny that she wanted the same thing. The craving bubbled in her gut, making its way up her chest. No one had bettered him in the bedroom—and there wasn’t anyone she really _wanted_ like that, besides him. It’d been that way since after Russia, since she’d heard his voice down the phone that fateful morning.

She leaned forward, straightening the collar on his blouse. “Beat me at speed chess, and I’ll consider it.”

Benny smiled then, tightening his grip on her thigh for just a second.

“It’s a bet, Harmon.” 


End file.
